


First Impressions

by AngelWars



Series: Vox Vignettes [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explosions, First Meetings, Gen, Mando'a, Minor Injuries, Pre-Relationship, Tension, s04 e18 Crisis on Naboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23826622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWars/pseuds/AngelWars
Summary: During the festival of lights, Fox is assigned to protect the chancellor while Vos has to keep an eye on Obi-wan—who's disguised as the bounty hunter Rako Hardeen.Fox runs into Vos, and things get a little tense.
Relationships: pre- CC- 1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos
Series: Vox Vignettes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805833
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72
Collections: Commander Fox





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! 
> 
> Welcome to my first Vox fanfic! 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy!!

This whole ordeal is _ridiculous_ and if the council had asked Vos for his opinion, he would have told them where to shove their plan. Insisting that Obi-wan deceive Skywalker is only going to end badly.

Still, the council had at least seen fit to assign him a shadow—Quinlan Vos—to keep an eye on him and extract him from the mission should the need arise.

Obi-wan had clearly been less than thrilled, but he knows Vos's particular skill set almost as well as the Shadow himself. He wrinkles his nose in distaste as the Chancellor starts to speak, some drivel about celebrating beauty even in wartime.

He entirely ignores the members of the Coruscant guard who stand at parade rest near the Chancellor, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. Vos barely suppresses a derisive snort. _'They couldn't catch someone like Cad Bane even if he came up and shot their boots out from under them.'_

* * *

Commander Fox has been standing beside the Supreme Chancellor for a very long time. No matter how many times other troopers from the front lines jibe about how easy and laid back of a position leading the Coruscant Guard must be—some even going so far as to call Fox a paper pusher.

Between curbing the sharp increase in crime infesting the lower levels of Coruscant and hunting down topside criminals, the position at the forefront of the Coruscant Guard is more than a _little_ difficult, if anyone would _ask_ Fox's opinion instead of _telling_ him how easy he has it- but he shoves all the frustration, the utter exhaustion, down every day to keep himself moving. Especially when the Chancellor calls.

This is one such occasion. The Chancellor’s home planet, Naboo, holds an annual celebration called, _‘The Festival of Lights,'_ and Fox—as the head of the Coruscant Guard—has been assigned to personally ensure the Chancellor’s safety. A flash of silver catches his eye. _A Jedi?_

Upon further scrutiny, the Commander concludes that the Jedi is none other than Anakin Skywalker. Far from easing him, the realization renews his tension. General Skywalker’s penchant for attracting trouble is well known among the senior ranks of the GAR, no matter how much respect the Chancellor has for the younger man. Forcing himself to relax back to parade rest, Fox turns his attention back to the proceedings.

Quinlan grits his teeth shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot, already bored and eager for _any_ kind of action. The force prickles with warning just before a series of explosions burst around the inside of the protective ray shield, destroying the shield generator.

Skywalker lunges forward to protect the chancellor; several of the Coruscant Guard had been thrown by the force of the explosion, but Quinlan ignores them, choosing instead continue his own mission prerogative—keeping an eye on the disguised Master Kenobi and monitoring the progress of the bounty hunters—only stepping in should his assistance be absolutely necessary. 

_Where are you?_ He scans the crowd, before locking his sight on one of the bounty hunters—a female Frenk. Not Cad Bane, but certainly enough of a lead for him to leap out of hiding. With the agile grace of an angry Nexu, Quinlan lunges into the chase, drawing and igniting his saber in one fluid motion.

Fox scrambles to his feet and visually sweeps the area for the Chancellor. He's been thrown to the floor as well. "Get _up!_ Protect the Chancellor!" Fox shouts the orders. As they hasten to obey, he scans the area again for more activity—and freezes when he spots an unfamiliar Jedi wielding a green lightsaber. Rolling to dodge a large chunk of debris, no doubt dislodged by one of the earlier explosions, the Commander takes a moment to scan the area again for the bounty hunters.

Dust and ash swirl lazily in the air, blinding Fox's vision, and the bright embers float gracefully to the cracked ground. The smell burns in his nose, crippling several of his senses at once, both making it harder to see and filling his throat with the scent and taste of char. _'Kriffing scum!'_ He grabs his standard DC-17s and aims for one of the intruders. The loud sound of the pistol cocking echoes in the sensors feeding into his heads up display.

Powerful plasma projectiles fire as fast as he can pull the trigger, more than enough to take out the Frenk bounty hunter; Twazzi—if the information showing on his HUD is correct—is far enough away that she likely survived the blasts from his pistols. Fox allows himself a faint smirk as he lowers his center of mass so he can be ready to run, should another bounty hunter try to take him by surprise. 

The Jedi is holding well on his own. But Fox gets closer to him because he had to protect the Jedi at all costs. Fox aims and fires another shot, successfully hitting another target- the male Parwan dubbed ‘the Executioner’. Commander Stone nods sharply at him from where he has his own pistols drawn, protecting Senator Amidala and General Skywalker. Fox tries to stifle his relief that Thire is with the other Commander- it doesn’t do well to care so deeply, even if Thire is their youngest Commander.

Quickly scanning to the right, Fox notes that Commander Thorn and Sergeant Hound are organizing the remaining guards protectively around the Chancellor.

With a jolt, the Commander realizes there's more bounty hunters than he'd previously thought. The Jedi—Fox wracks his brain for a name but can't recall—is so intent on his target that he doesn't notice the bounty hunter sneaking around to flank him. 

It only takes a split second to make his decision. With a shouted warning, Fox hurls himself between the new bounty hunter—none other than Cad Bane—and the Kiffar Jedi.

The shot fired from the bounty hunter burns through the armor protecting his thigh, sending him sprawling. Dazed from the impact his head made with the ground, Fox blinks quickly to try to reorient himself to try to resume helping the Jedi. 

Disbelief and anger flash through Quinlan all at once before he shoves them down to process later. He doesn't miss the irony of _Cad Bane_ having almost caught him off guard, nor the irony of a _clone_ foolishly leaping to his defense.

"What the kriff are you waiting for?" He hisses at the fallen Commander as he launches past, "I thought your kind were bred to be superior soldiers! Shake it the kriff off, get _up,_ and do your karking job so I don't have to do it for you!"

Commander Fox stands up and hisses under his breath. _Kriffing Jetii._ He grabs his pistols, which slid across the floor upon his fall, and quickly makes it right back into his feet. This Jedi's got some nerve talking to him like that. But Commander Fox is kriffing used to shit like that! He tightens his hold on the grips before he dashed forth; taking out as many criminals as he can.

Meanwhile, the Chancellor stands in the middle of a four-man protective circle, the troopers trying to get him over to the steps where the Jedi Knight is but the criminals are quickly overwhelming them.

Thorn shouts, “Commander!! We need some help over here!"

Fox spares a look for the tight-knit circle, before shouting back “I'm a little caught up in my own mess!" He grits his teeth and then returns his attention to the enemies in front of him. 

More of the enemy climbs over the side and Fox glares at them through his visor. Letting out pinpoint accurate shots. _One, two. Three down._ But each time one falls, another has recovered enough to take their fallen comrade’s place.

"Kriff! Get the Chancellor out of there!" Fox orders over the comms. The men start to move but don't get far, another explosion knocks them off their feet. Fox growls under his breath and catches movement in his periphery. The Jedi is still moving about, fighting as many as he can.

It's not enough. They’re too quick. General Skywalker is trying to help the guardsmen protect the chancellor, but there's only so much one Jedi can do.

Speaking of _one Jedi,_ Fox bites back a snarl and launches himself again into the fray, backing up until he and the still unknown Kiffar Jedi Master are standing back to back.

"I can take care of myself!" Vos snaps, deftly blocking a series of plasma bolts. 

Fox snorts derisively and favors his injured leg, "Yeah, right! That's why you needed me to save your skin earlier."

A pulse of virulent irritation bursts from the Jedi, "Who programmed you to be sarcastic and disrespectful?"

"We aren't droids, _General."_ Fox hisses, taking a shot at one of the humanoid bounty hunters but missing spectacularly when Vos elbows him, throwing off his aim.

Quinlan grits out, "My _name_ is Vos. Don't call me General." A blur of green deflects a flurry of blaster fire before the Jedi— _Vos—_ manages to speak again, bitter snark resounding in his voice, "I don't suppose _you_ have a name then? So I can avoid you in the future?"

Fox snorts, unamused. He jerks to glare right back over his shoulder, his glare sadly can't be seen behind the visor but the Jedi read the gesture. "I don't think I need to tell _you_ what my name is." He smirks to himself as he countered back. 

Fox jerks his attention back to the loud fray, the thunderous rumbles, the sky is mixed with vibrant colors of yellow and orange. The dust in the air is contrasting to the bright colors of more explosions with its gray and brown specks. 

The anger and annoyance emanating from the Jedi is contagious.

 _Screw him then._ Fox glares knives at the Jedi through his visor _. ‘I bet he'll just use me as cannon fodder every chance he gets. Kriffing shabuir!!’_

Vos grits his teeth and uses his height to shove the Commander to cover, almost spitting with anger, "Stay the kark down you suicidal bastard!" 

Before Fox can complain, another explosion causes the ground to lurch beneath his feet. He shoots the Jedi a glare. _'He's not like any Jedi I've ever met.'_

Fox grimaces, "With all due respect, _General,"_ he levels his blaster again at the charging bounty hunter, "my brothers and I were born for this." In a twist of irony, the Commander spits, "So take your own kriffing advice, you 'suicidal bastard' and stay down."

Vos is—a _lmost—_ impressed by the gall this Commander has. Before he can summon the oxygen to say so, one of the bounty hunters launches himself back into the fight, tackling the Jedi and smashing his bare fist across Vos's face.

All of a sudden, memories and emotions not belonging to him swell behind his eyes—in his chest—choking him.

He can't breathe. He can't hear. He can't see the second bounty hunter lunging in for the kill.

The impact throws Vos into the Commander, sending him sprawling to the ground. Fox shakes his head and groans, the sudden contact with the ground dulling his hearing to a faint hum. Another series of explosions sends tremors through the platform eliciting distant shouts from troopers and terrified screams from Senators and citizens. Blaster fire rains around him from enemies and friends alike. 

_‘Kriff!! Karking di'kut! Ugh, meg te haran.’_ Fox sits up and reaches for his guns where they’ve landed. Despite blurred vision, he closed his hands around the grips right in front of him. He made out the shape of Vos and a bounty hunter, who's half straddling Vos's body and is choking him!

The Jedi, _Vos,_ looks like he's in pain, his eyes closed and desperately trying to grab at the man's forearms. _Oh no you dont!!_

Scarlet anger and a speck of protectiveness raced through Fox like a tsunami. Fox stands up so fast his head spins sickenly; he shakes his head to clear his vision before he sprints over to the enemy choking the Jedi.

The bounty hunter seems to have known he was coming because he withdrew a stun baton; once Fox made contact with him he slams the stick into Fox with a sickening thud. 

Fox grits his teeth and pushes through the pulses of electricity. The two of them crash to the ground. He hisses through the pain as 50 volts riddles his body. _'K_ _-Kriff...this burns!! Haar'chak!'_ Fox finally screams for the pain and takes it, and takes it, and _takes it._

Fox fights through it and takes the opportunity to reach up and punch the criminal hard enough to knock him out. _'_ _Lights kriffing out. Bitch.'_ Fox pants, breathing in and out roughly, his body twitches and he sways over the bounty hunter.

Vos clears his head quickly, grimacing as he releases the memories that aren't his to the force. He focuses. _Obi-wan._ The other Master is tailing the bounty hunters who are making off with the Chancellor.

Fox's vision, still blurred from the brief electrocution, manages to focus on a shape coming in from the side unseen by the Jedi. His throat constricts drily as he tries to shout a warning, but the air won't come. He levels his blaster only to hiss precious air in frustration when it clicks angrily—empty of plasma charges.

The Commander makes his decision in a heartbeat, and tosses the blaster aside, launching himself between the Jedi who's _finally_ turning to face the attacker but too late—their rifle is raised and they've taken the shot.

The pain goes almost unnoticed—like he's watching a holo of Thorn or Stone fall to the ground scrabbling helplessly at their own armor. 

_"Kriff!"_

That voice is most certainly _not_ Thorn, Thire, or any of the vode Fox is familiar with. A string of words in an unfamiliar language grates distantly against his ears. He tries to speak, and notes that his voice sounds _wet_ and that _can't_ be good. _"Fox,"_ he tries to say, he hopes—thinks he says, _"my name is Fox."_

He thinks he sees Vos's mouth turning over the name, a look of surprise and spark of distant recognition on his face.

The last thing Fox sees before slipping into blissful darkness is a pair of bright, dark eyes- too many emotions to name flitting like shadows in their depths.

It all felt empty when Fox woke back up again. Slowly. It was dreadful. His muscles and bones ached something fierce and he wasn't sure why it's dark. And empty. And soft— _’oh no wait, those are..blankets? Okay, weird, where the kriff am I?’_ Fox opens his eyes and reels back into his mind at the brightness glaring down them. 

_'Holy kriffing Force!! Ack! That... Hurt...'_ His head is throbbing now thanks to the bright lights... dizziness spins his vision when Fox manages to turn his head slightly to the side.

His senses are jumbled, and quickly coming back in a storm of unpleasant sensation. First is his sight, obviously, bright as fuck and nothing more. Well, he'd be lying if he said it wasn't a _blurry_ brightness right now. 

Second, touch: ~soft blanket~ _Ah, no, scratch that. Very rough kriffing blanket._ And a mattress that's pretty stiff for Fox's liking, but he's used to them so it's not all that bad. Third is taste: dryness. Mouth tastes like sandpaper. _‘When's the last time I drank water. Geez.’_

Sight clarifies next, barely. He sees the blurry outline of a person moving their hands about. Pointing at a floating object?

His hearing recovers last.

The first sound to assault his ears is yelling. A snarky tone snaps, and a droid tries to reason with the snarking person. Fox blinks from where he's lying down and clenches his hands upon the blanket. He's tired. And disoriented. The man near the bed yelling at the droid is... familiar? 

To be completely honest, Fox is not exactly sure who that man is... _‘Who is he again?’_

He tries to speak and feels the tender skin of his dry lips strain and start to split. The incessant, _infernal_ beeping of the monitor digs into his head. Fox _squeaks._

The yelling ceases at least, and the Commander tries to wet his lips. "Wat—Water—" he croaks.

The dark, blurry shape stands abruptly and snaps unintelligibly at the medical droid, before whirling away and blurring out of sight, despite Fox's dehydration-fractured protests.

Bleary blinks slowly clear the blurry fog, and Fox silently curses whatever painkillers the medical droid has him on. He slowly makes out the familiar dark shape—whoever it is hasn't left, only moved across the room. Fox gets the sense that he's being glared at.

A softly mechanical droning voice soothes him, "You must rest, CC- 1010. You've taken quite the literal beating. If any of it had gone on any longer, your heart would have certainly given out."

A derisive snort from the dark shape draws Fox's attention back to him. He finally draws close enough for the Commander to make out who— 

_"I thought_ **_your kind_ ** _were bred to be superior soldiers...do your karking job so I don't have to do it for you!"_

Fox flinches from the memory and the monitor starts beeping faster, and faster, and faster. He slips back under as the yelling renews when the droid ushers the irate Jedi from the medbay. The shouts fade into static—a constant, dull, throbbing pulse of pain behind his eyes. The angry voice of the Jedi follows him back into unconsciousness.

_"... your kind."_

_"... bred."_

_"... superior soldiers."_

* * *

Exhaustion pins his eyes shut as he slowly awakens to the sound of the shrill, reassuringly steady treble of the monitor at his bedside. Outside of his control, his face pinches. The echoes of screams, the scents of death and ash, the memory of Thire being assigned to them at only eight and a half- not even physically eighteen yet.

He can’t open his eyes. Exhaustion riddled his mind with thoughts and memories of the past. Screaming, yelling, death and destruction, and furthermore; his brothers dying every day. And the many words from Jedi who don't care about his 'kind', as they like to call him and his brothers. 

It pissed Fox off to this very day....but right now he's too tired to really get angry at anyone or anything. He just wants to sleep. His body becomes heavier and all these muddled thoughts swirl around him like a whirlpool till it sucks him under. A gentle tide of darkness and then... Nothingness. Just the empty cold, black void, of nothingness.

An echo, a dew drop, a residue of a shattered thought, a question, flutters through the quiet. _His name. What's his name? Why can't I remember… his… name?_

"-be fine."

 _‘Thorn?’_ The voice is very close, and something— someone—warm is half-sitting and curled protectively around him. 

"How do you know he'll be fine?" 

_‘Thire. That's Thire.’_

A third voice, Stone, chimes in, "You know how _General_ Vos is- who knows if it was _actually_ the bounty hunters that did this to him?!"

Fox groans, tired of hearing about—"That's his name, then." 

The bed suddenly dips lower as two more bodies pile onto the bunk. The medical droid whirrs in discontent, "I must insist that you leave CC-1010 alone in his bed!"

"Kriff off!" Fox croaks before any of his fellow guardsmen can tear into the droid for doing its job. After quickly checking his vitals with an irked grumble, the droid drifts back.

To Stone, the wounded Commander asserts, "It was _definitely_ one of the bounty hunters that got me, and you should be more _careful_ going around whispering treasonous thoughts about the Jedi like that—we need you too badly to lose you over some misplaced anger."

Thire—the youngest of their squad—leans in and says seriously, "We can't lose _you_ ori'vod."

With a shake of his head, Stone adds, "You should have seen the fight Vos was putting up when the medical droid insisted he leave—it almost seemed like he _wanted_ to wait for you to wake up." Stone helpfully leaves, _“Or finish the job,"_ unsaid.

Fox shoots him an affectionately exasperated glance, but doesn't have the strength to argue with his vode. Something Stone said caught his attention, _"-almost seemed like he_ **_wanted_ ** _to see you."_

 _'He wanted to see me?'_ The Commander wonders as his officers bicker about how best to go about insulting a Jedi without getting caught.

_'He wanted to see me?'_

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a translation  
> shabuir- a very impolite insult, with insinuations about someone's mother  
> di'kut- idiot  
> meg te haran- what the hell
> 
> I may need help continuing this story, so if anyone would like to volunteer in helping me, please contact me immediately! 
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
